


Dirty Gold

by peachys



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Angst, Blow Jobs in a Car, Daddy Kink, Feelings, M/M, Porn With Plot, Smut, au where zen doesnt have that stupid ponytail/mullet, fwb to lovers, this is unfinished
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-08-14 11:22:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8011711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachys/pseuds/peachys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a one time thing turns into a two time thing turns into an i kind of like you thing.</p><p>or</p><p>that AU where Zen and Jumin aren't supposed to catch feelings but they do anyway and they don't know how to deal with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

The champagne reflects the dim lights of the room as Jumin swirls it around in the glass. The music is loud and Jaehee says something close to his ear that he doesn’t quite catch but he doesn’t ask her to repeat herself because he simply can’t bring himself to care. He’s tired and bored but doesn’t want to go home yet because across the room is someone he can’t exactly keep his eyes off of. His white hair is neatly arranged, falling softly over his eyes as he sits at the bar bent over a glass of what Jumin can only assume is whiskey. His fingers are long and slender as they delicately trace the rim of the glass and he looks so beautiful illuminated by those dull lights that Jumin aches.

“Hold this,” he says, passing his glass over to Jaehee who takes it in bewilderment. Some of the liquid spills over and lands on Jumin’s hand in his haste to stand. He licks the sweet champagne off of his fingers before it dries up and becomes sticky.

“Where are you going?” She asks, standing to follow along but Jumin stops and motions for her to stay there.

“Somewhere,” he shrugs even as his feet are already taking him over to the bar where the other man sits. He’s not really sure what he’s doing or what he’s going to say when he gets there but he adjusts his suit jacket and runs his hands through his hair a few times to make sure he’s presentable enough. When he gets there he sits on the stool next to the other man and asks the bartender for a drink. As he waits he says “What’s the star of the night doing sitting here all by himself?”

Zen looks up, probably just noticing Jumin there and his pretty eyes grow wide. “I’m sorry?”

Jumin taps his fingers against the wooden surface, off-beat to the song currently playing. “Well, everyone wants to talk to you.” He turns one the stool so that his whole body faces Zen and their knees brush. “Why are you all alone?”

Zen laughs and pushes his glass to the side. The bartender comes and places Jumin’s drink in front of him but he ignores it. He can’t even remember what he ordered anymore.

“To be honest,” Zen says. “I’m tired. As much as I like the attention I just can’t handle it sometimes.”

“That’s understandable.” Jumin takes the glass and watches the golden brown liquid swirl around. “It’s your night, though. You should enjoy it.”

Zen laughs again but this time a bit harder. He tips back on the stool, watching Jumin with carefully hooded eyes. “It’s just a movie premiere.”

“It’s not like it’s just any old movie,” Jumin answers. “It’s _your_ movie.” The flattering and flirting comes easy. Jumin has always known how to throw out a compliment to get what he wants except now it’s different. _Zen_ is different and the compliments aren’t just hollow words with no meaning behind them.

“I guess you get used to it all after some time.”

Jumin watches him carefully; the way he moves, how his lips look when he talks. It’s all so mesmerizing that Jumin finds himself leaning in closer. Their eyes meet and Zen’s lips part slightly.

“I don’t think I know your name,” he says.

Jumin grins, his straight white teeth winking under the lights. His hand brushes over Zen’s thigh as he says “Jumin Han.”

Something flashes across Zen’s eyes; maybe recognition or something else. Jumin doesn’t try to decipher the look, too busy just admiring the man in front of him.  

“I’m-“

“Very beautiful,” Jumin finishes. Zen’s cheeks turn a pretty pink and he tries to hide his face though Jumin takes his chin and forces his head back up. “I already know who you are, don’t worry.”

“I was going to say that I was glad to meet you.” His lips tilt and curl into a grin. He wraps his fingers loosely around Jumin’s wrist and pulls his hand away from his chin. “But that work’s too. And besides, I already know that.”

“Know what?”

Zen leans forward, placing his hands on Jumin’s thighs for balance. He’s so warm, Jumin realizes as he waits with baited breath for Zen’s next move. He’s so, so warm and Jumin can’t help imagining those hands trailing higher, touching him in every way he wants to be touched.

Zen’s lips brush against the shell of Jumin’s ear and he shivers. “That I’m beautiful.” Jumin’s hands come up and land on Zen’s side, his thumb tracing patterns over his ribs. “I’m a goddamn work of art.” And Zen is getting cocky now, Jumin knows that but he really can’t bring himself to disagree. He trails his hands lower, down Zen’s stomach until they land on his hips and he keeps them there as a steady reminder.

“I’m glad we can both agree on that.”

Zen hums softly, his hands moving just a little bit higher. They’re playing a game now, Jumin realizes and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t come out as the victor. “I’m glad we can, Mr. Han.”

“It’s Jumin.”

“Jumin.” He says it like a purr; it rolls of his tongue delicately and Jumin can’t get enough. He wants to hear Zen say his name again and again and again.

Zen pulls back far enough that he can look at Jumin’s face and he smiles. He looks so innocent, so young. Jumin’s heart skips a beat in his chest and he could swear for days that he’s never felt anything like this, never wanted anyone so bad. Zen pulls back even further and leans against the bar. Jumin immediately misses the heat, misses having his hands on him.

“Do you want to play?” Zen asks, trailing his foot up Jumin’s leg, over the expensive fabric of his pants and stops just below his knee.

“Play?”

“Play… with me?”

Jumin’s throat is suddenly dry and It’s hard to swallow, hard to form words. Zen trails a light hand over his own thigh, delicately traces a path over his crotch. And _yes_ Jumin very much wants to play with him. He wishes that were his hand and for a moment he almost reaches out before remembering where he is. There’s too many people around and someone’s bound to have noticed them. The bartender certainly has but he wisely keeps his head down.

“C’mon,” Zen urges, spreading his legs just a little bit wider. “ _Jumin._ Don’t you want to?”

“My place or yours?” Jumin asks casually but inside he’s raging.

Something fierce flashes across Zen’s eyes at the words and Jumin knows right then and there that he’s going to be in for one hell of a night.

“Mine,” Zen breathes already standing and grabbing Jumin’s hand. He holds on to it tight as they make their way outside where his car is. Jumin doesn’t even bother saying goodbye to Jaehee and he knows he’s going to have some missed calls from her in the morning but right then with Zen’s hands running over his chest as they wait for the valet he can’t really bring himself to care too much. He can take care of business tomorrow when he’s satisfied.

The ride to Zen’s place isn’t as awkward as Jumin had expected but it is tense, the air thick with the sexual tension between them. Jumin feels like he’s about to jump out of his skin from the anticipation so he places his hand firm on Zen’s thigh to stop himself from fidgeting.

“When we get to my place,” Zen breathes, letting his head fall back against the headrest of the car. He’s restless; constantly shifting and rubbing his thighs together. “I want your hands all over me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I want you to make me feel so good.” He presses down on the gas pedal, making the car go faster. Jumin tightens his hold on Zen’s thigh, willing himself not to let them travel. He wanted to touch him, taste him, make him moan and scream but the most important thing right then was getting to Zen’s place in one piece and at the speed they were going they couldn’t afford any distractions.

Zen is aggressive, Jumin comes to find. He parks the car and runs around to Jumin’s side, immediately opening the car door, threading his fingers through his hair and _pulling._ Jumin moans and tilts his head back, trying to ease the sting.  Zen’s lips are on his in an instant and Jumin realizes that it’s the first time they’d kissed all night. Zen tastes like whiskey, a sharp contrast to Jumin’s sweet champagne and the mix of flavors is intoxicating.

Jumin isn’t a stranger to one night stands but as they stumble into the elevator he realizes that he’s never had anything like this; fast, rushed, hard. It usually took him hours to get someone to go home with him but with Zen it had been so easy and maybe this all hadn’t been under his control anyway. This was all for Zen’s game, he realizes as he’s pushed against a wall and he kind of liked it like that.

“How do you want this?” Jumin asks, running his hands under Zen’s shirt to feel his skin.

“Hard,” Zen says, trying to press closer to Jumin. They’re both so hard, aching under the clothes they still have on for some reason. Zen’s lips press heated wet kisses to Jumin’s neck. He nips at the skin there but makes sure not to leave a mark. He wants to leave no reminder of their night together on Jumin’s skin.

“Work for it, then,” Jumin whispers, his lips curling into a grin. He’d let Zen have his fun for too long and now it was his turn. “Where’s your bedroom?” Zen kisses Jumin’s cheek, his neck. His hands trail down his chest and down to palm over the bulge in his pants. It feels so good Jumin moans and lets his head fall back against the wall.

“Just take me right here.”

“I’m not fucking you in your living room. Now, where is your bedroom?”

The tone of voice Jumin uses makes Zen freeze. It’s so rough, so commanding. After a moment of consideration Zen takes Jumin’s hand and leads him down the hall and into his bedroom. There’s not much time for looking around because his lips are on Jumin’s in the next moment and they’re stumbling together, falling on to the mattress so hard all the air leaves their lungs.

Jumin watches with hooded eyes as Zen straddles his hips, fingers immediately working at the buttons of his shirt. It takes him a moment; he’s never done anything like this before. Usually men and women alike undress for him at his request but Jumin wanted him to work for it so he would.

“You’re so slow,” Jumin comments, stretching his hands up over his head.

“You wear too many clothes. Who does that? Who wears a suit to an after party, huh?” He gets the last button and the shirt comes open revealing Jumin’s chest and stomach. “ _Fuck._ ”

“Like what you see?” Jumin smirks, his hand running up Zen’s thigh and squeezing once.

“Yeah,” Zen says as he grinds down, trying to relieve some pressure. Jumin looks infuriatingly composed and he _hates it._ He wants to see how Jumin looks all wrecked, hair a mess and eyes blown wide. “Yeah, Jumin. Touch me, please.”

Jumin considers it for a moment and then moves his hand higher up on Zen’s thigh and over his cock. Zen moans and rocks his hips. “ _Oh, fuck. Yes, please.”_

Too soon Jumin’s hand is gone and Zen could scream and that moment.

“Take your clothes off. I want to see you.”

Reluctantly Zen nods and stands on shaky legs. He wants to be touched and kissed but Jumin is taking everything so slowly it’s frustrating. His shirt is the first to come off, of course. The fabric slides off his arms and lands on the floor with a soft rustling sound. Jumin is watching him with heated eyes and so Zen puts on a show because that’s what he’s best at.

His hands land on his chest and he shamelessly rubs his nipples, goes down lower past his navel until he’s got his hands in his pants. He moans and arches into his own touch, reveling in the way Jumin looks at him.

“Do you want this?” He asks. His touch feels so good but he imagines Jumin’s hands would feel much better.

“Hurry up,” Jumin says though it comes out sounding more like a growl. He kicks his shoes off and works at the button of his pants before sliding them down his legs and kicking them off. Now he’s only in a pair of tight briefs and his unbuttoned shirt. “And get the lube.”

Zen nods and stumbles as he struggles to get his pants and underwear off. Once he’s naked he allows a moment for Jumin to take his fill before moving to grab the lube from the nightstand. He’d never been shy about his body and then wasn’t any exception.

“You’re a tease, you know that?” Jumin whispers as he takes Zen by the hips and flips him over so that he’s on his stomach, ass in the air. He kisses between his shoulder blades and Zen arches his back.

“You’re not much better,” Zen counters and hisses when Jumin bites his shoulder. “Fuck. Jumin, _please._ ”

“You sound so pretty when you beg.”

“I’m always pretty,” Zen says, lifting his ass higher in the air, trying to tempt Jumin and is rewarded with a finger lightly tracing his rim. He moans and grips the sheets tightly. He needed this so badly ever since he’d first laid eyes on Jumin.

He hears the click of the lube being uncapped and shivers, mentally preparing himself for what’s to come. Jumin is gently, though. He’s precise and methodical, easing Zen into it one finger at a time. He lets the slow, gentle pleasure curl around his insides and relax him.

“Please,” he whispers, rocking his hips back, trying to get more than what Jumin was offering.

“Do you like my fingers?” Jumin asks, placing filthy wet kisses all over Zen’s ass. He’s so soft, so beautiful he wonders if he’ll ever be able to get his fill.

“I can think of something I’ll like better.” He’s breathless but still so cocky.

“My tongue?” Jumin asks and just for emphasize his point he drags his tongue around Zen’s rim and Zen squirms, not sure if he wants more or less.  

“Fuck. I’ll come, Jumin. I swear.”

“Isn’t that the point?”

“Please,” Zen whines when he feels Jumin’s tongue again. “Just fuck me. I’ve been good, please, I _need_ you.”

“When you put it that way…”

Zen whines even louder when he feels Jumin pull his fingers out but reminds himself of what’s coming. He hears the click of the lube again and then Jumin hisses under his breath.

“You’re amazing,” Jumin whispers as he uses one hand to spread Zen’s asscheeks and the other to guide his cock in. “You feel so good, baby.”

They both moan at the same time as Jumin slides in all the way. Zen is so hot, so tight that Jumin’s hips stutter and he fucks in once before remembering to calm down, to give Zen time to adjust.

Zen shifts on his knees and gasps at the feeling of being so full. His hair clings to his forehead, soaked with sweat and there’s a small trail of drool running down his chin. He’s gripping the sheets so tight his knuckles are white.

“Move. _Fucking move._ ”

For the first time that night Jumin does as he’s told. He starts out slow much to Zen’s frustration but his thrusts are hard. The sound they make as they meet skin to skin is almost obscene. As his thrusts get harder Jumin moves to grab Zen’s hair. His grip is soft, unsure but Zen knows what he likes. He moans loud and filthy and so Jumin tugs harder, reveling in the power this position gives him. Zen can’t do much more than cry out and beg and meet him in the middle thrust by thrust.

“Does it feel good?” Jumin asks, pulling on Zen’s hair harder. “Do you like that?”

“Jumin. _Jumin._ I’m going to come, oh my god.”

Jumin’s pace falters and he lets out a soft moan. “You can do that? You can come without me even touching your dick? You gonna come just from me fucking that cute ass of yours?”

Zen moans loudly, his back arching so hard Jumin is sure it hurts. When he comes it’s with Jumin’s name on his tongue. Jumin fucks him through it and when Zen moans from the oversensitivity he pulls out, finishing himself off. He watches as his come lands on Zen’s ass, mixes with the lube and slides down his thighs.

Jumin collapses on top of him; their sweat and come mixes together and Zen shifts away, too overheated to be pressed up to Jumin.

“That was… nice,” he says between heavy pants.

“Just nice?” Jumin asks, frowning a little. He places his hand on Zen’s chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat.

“Yeah.” Zen turns over on his side and smiles at Jumin, all charm then. “Thanks for the night.”

Jumin nods and throws his arms over his eyes. “Just let me catch my breath and then I’ll be out.”

He feels Zen nod and then there’s a warm pressure on his lips.

“I’ll be in the bathroom,” Zen says. “Lock the door on your way out.”

Jumin turns in time to see Zen slipping out of bed completely naked, covered in come and sweat. He looks like a vision and Jumin wants the image engraved in his mind forever.

He stays in bed for a few more moments and only gets up when he hears the shower being turned on. He slips his clothes on quickly and is gone before Zen is even done.

-

The next morning Zen wakes up to his phone’s ringtone. It’s one of those generic ones; loud and obnoxious but it gets the job done.

“Hello?” His voice is groggy and when he shifts and feels the aching at the base of his spine does he remember the events from last night. He flinches as he tries to find a comfortable enough position.

“Zenny!” Comes they voice, annoyingly chipper for that time of the morning. “Where’d you go last night? Rika and I were looking for you but we couldn’t find you!”

“Oh about that,” Zen says, running his hands through his hair. His head aches softly from where Jumin had tugged at the strands. “I left early. Sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“What! With who?” Yoosung speaks too loudly and Zen has to pull the phone away from his ear.

“Who says it had to be with someone? Maybe I was tired.”

“Because you never leave early unless it’s with someone. Who was it?”

Zen thinks about Jumin’s hands on him at that moment. He thinks about his mouth and his tongue and how good he’d made him feel. “It was no one,” he says as he stands and heads to the bathroom.

 _It was no one,_ he tells himself. _And it will probably never happen again._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is filthy. I'M filthy.

It takes two weeks for Zen to (kind of) forget about Jumin. Two weeks of constant aching and need, two weeks of late nights spent with his hands between his thighs thinking about those dark eyes and skilled hands. Two weeks of feeling fucking pathetic because never before had a one-night stand made him feel like that but he works through it.

A new script arrives in his mailbox a few days after his movie’s premiere. He told himself he’d get a break, maybe go on vacation for a month but as soon as he sees the large envelope he knows that’s not going to happen. The script is for a musical this time and he’d been itching for a long time now to be up on stage and in front of an audience rather than those big bulky cameras. He wanted people to see and admire him in real time and so even before he finishes the script he calls his manager, accepting the lead role that’s being offered.

It's half musical, half drama; something or another about a forbidden romance and Zen really has no experience with that, forbidden or otherwise but that was the best thing about acting. He could easily pull off a role like that. He just needed to put on a mask and act like a love struck fool and it’d be believable. He was already thinking about how easily the audience would eat it up, how much praise he’d get.

He’s paired up with Echo Girl who is more famous than him but less talented. The first time they meet she places a delicate hand on his arm and asks him to call her by her first name.

“Kyungju,” Zen says, plastering a fake smile on his face. “I look forward to working with you.”

Her face turns red and yes, she’s pretty he won’t deny that but the way she flutters her eyelashes and runs her fingers down his arm throws him off. He’s trying to be professional and memorize his lines and the proper notes for the songs. He doesn’t want her flirting with him; it makes him anxious, makes his skin crawl.

And so he realizes this as he’s sitting with her two weeks after rehearsals have started: he really doesn’t like her. They’re at a café for their lunch break and she smells like jasmines and something a little bit sweeter. Her hair is a perfect brown shade and her eyes are wide and bright and she _smiles_ too much. Her foot brushes against his leg as she leans closer and he tries not to move away. He reminds himself that he has to be nice to her maybe not because they’re working together but because she looked like the type of person that could turn against someone in an instant. He saw it in her eyes, in the way they darkened when something didn’t go her way or the way her mouth tightened into a thin line when service somewhere was too slow.

Her nails start tapping rhythmically against the table and it’s honestly the most irritating sound he’s ever heard.

“You look nice today,” he says. That’s how he starts off all conversations with her; with a compliment.

She shrugs. Flicks her hair over her shoulder. “Thank you, Zenny.” And he really truly hates the way she says it. Hates the way she giggles after even more.

He gives her his best smile because he has a lot of those stored up and she doesn’t even question it.

She says something at the same time that someone walks into the café and the soft jingle of the bell that hangs over the door has Zen turning his head, away from her and towards the person that just walked in.

Zen doesn’t recognize him at first but the black eyes that meet his has his heart beating at an erratic kind of pace. Jumin pauses mid-stride, his eyes running all over Zen’s face like he can’t quite believe he’s there and then in the next moment he’s turning away and heading towards the counter. He looks as handsome as he did that night and Zen wondered if ever looked ugly anyway but that seemed like an impossibility. He’s wearing a suit and maybe Zen doesn’t know a lot about suits but he knows that that one fits Jumin just perfectly. It was probably custom made to his measurements, no doubt about it.

“Are you listening to me?”

His attention is brought back to Kyungju who is looking at him with a small frown marring her perfect features.

“Sorry, I-“

“Do you know him?” She’s not quiet about it, making it very obvious that she means Jumin. She turns in her seat and eyes his back as he places his order. A chocolate chip muffin and an iced coffee to go, Zen overhears.

“I-“ He’s going to say _no_ because that’s the easy thing to do. He’s going to turn back to her and ignore Jumin but how can he when it’s _right there_ just a few feet away. The thought of spending even a single minute longer in Kyungju’s presence has him standing so abruptly his chair almost goes flying back. “Yes, actually. He’s an old friend. Excuse me.”

Her eyes are on him as he walks over to where Jumin stands calmly to the side, his receipt in his hand as he waits for his order. Zen puts his hand on his arm just trying to make it as friendly as possible and is surprised (and a little bit relieved) when Jumin doesn’t pull away.

“Hello, stranger,” Zen says, smiling wide. Jumin eyes him but he doesn’t look set back or like he doesn’t want Zen to be there at all. He doesn’t treat Zen like a stranger.

“Zen,” he says in greeting. His voice is low, leveled. Businesslike. “Pleasure seeing you here.”

Zen smiles all teeth and dimples and moves closer, his hand still on Jumin’s arm. Kyungju’s eyes are on them, dark and heated and angry. Her lips are curled down and there’s an ugly frown on her face.

“Actually, the theater I’m rehearsing at is not too far from here so I’ve been frequenting this place a ton.”

“You took another job?”

He nods. “I told myself I’d get a break but-“ he shrugs. “What can you do, right?”

They’re leaning casually against the counter as if they’re old friends catching up, having a good chat. Zen’s eyes fall on Jumin’s hands as they fiddle with the receipt and he notices the simple gold band that decorates his middle finger. He briefly wonders how the cold metal would feel as it drags across his skin…

Kyungju clears her throat and they both turn to look at her. She doesn’t look as angry but she’s always been good at hiding her emotions. Her smile, however, is as fake as ever.

Jumin looks at her and he frowns a little. “I think I know you from somewhere,” he says.

Kyungju’s face darkens though Zen can’t really place why. Did she and Jumin know each other from somewhere?

“Zen,” she says, all the playfulness from before lost. She makes it a point to ignore Jumin, even twists her body at an awkward angle just so he’ll see her back. “Come back so we can keep talking.” Frankly, that’s the last thing Zen wants to do.

Jumin’s order is placed in front of him, the muffin in a small brown paper bag and the coffee in a plain plastic cup decorated with condensation and the café’s logo. He turns to leave and without even really thinking about it Zen says “Actually, I was going to leave with Jumin.”

Jumin pauses, half-way between Zen and the door. Zen’s heart hammers in his chest as he silently prays that Jumin doesn’t call him out and expose him as the dirty liar that he is. Jumin isn’t moving though so Zen takes the opportunity to place a twenty-thousand-won bill on the table, enough to pay for the meal they’d shared. He offers her a friendly pat on the shoulder before he’s heading out of the doors, the little bell jingling over his head.

“What was that?” Jumin asks as he slides into the driver’s seat of his car. It’s slick and black, the windows tinted so dark it was probably illegal. It’s expensive, Zen knows that and if he hadn’t been able to tell from the exterior he can definitely tell from interior. It’s all cream colored leather and it smells like Jumin’s cologne except that’s the only sign that it was even his. It was immaculately clean maybe even obsessively so.

“I swear I would’ve stabbed myself in the eye if I’d had had to endure another second of conversation with her.” He shifts in his seat, remembers how last time they were in a car together Jumin’s hand had rested hot and heavy on his thigh. “Thank you, by the way.”

Jumin shrugs as he starts the ignition. Zen can barely feel it as the engine comes to life with a soft hum instead of a loud roar. The radio starts playing though the volume is turned down so low he can barely make out the song that’s playing. “I… didn’t think I’d be seeing you again.” Zen looks over at Jumin and though they haven’t moved he’s facing straight forward, his hands gripping the stirring wheel tight.

“What a coincidence, huh?” Zen offers a toothy smile though inside he’s a mess. Jumin looks so _good,_ so kissable and Zen really shouldn’t think like that about what was supposed to be a one-time thing but considering that now they are in the same car, in the same space that didn’t really seem to matter.

“Coincidence. Yes.” Jumin turns then and they’re eyes meet and at that moment Zen realizes that Jumin had thought about him just as much as he had.

Zen licks his lips and Jumin’s eyes follow the movement as if hypnotized. He leans forward, just a tiny bit closer but Jumin doesn’t pull away, if anything he moves closer too. They’re testing the waters, moving closer and closer until their lips meet and the tide is pulling them both under with no chance of surfacing.

Zen groans against Jumin’s lips and tries to move closer but in the small space of the car it’s nearly impossible. Jumin’s hands are in his hair, tugging at the strands. He feels a hot, wet tongue lick across his lips and they part almost instantly, allowing for Jumin to lick into his mouth. It’s so hot, so filthy and he just wants more.

Too soon Jumin is pulling back. Zen tries to follow so he can connect their lips but Jumin holds him back by his hair.

“Zen,” Jumin says and his voice is breathy, barely audible though the warning is clearly audible. _We shouldn’t be doing this_ but the want in his eyes is clearly visible.

“We should fuck again,” Zen offers as an answer. Jumin groans, the sound resonating in the small space but he shakes his head and pulls back completely.

“One-time thing, remember?”

“We never agreed to that.”

“I thought you’d be smart enough to understand.”

Zen huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. He knows he’s acting like a child especially with that pout but Jumin was being ridiculously unfair. Besides, he could see the bulge in Jumin’s pants, could tell he wanted this as much as he did.

“Tell me where you want me to drop you off,” Jumin says, shifting the car into drive and pulling away from the café. Zen stares for a moment, not expecting Jumin to be so… _nice._

“Uhm. The theater on East and King.” And then after a moment of hesitation he adds “please.”

Jumin smiles and lets out a small huff of laughter. Zen bites his lip as he looks at him. They’re about the same age but Jumin looks much, much older for some reason. He always has some air of importance about him and he’s so composed all of the time Zen wonders what he’s been through to make him like that. He doesn’t ask, though. He’s too busy trying to figure out how to turn their one-time thing into a two-time thing so that maybe then he can flush Jumin out of his system once and for all.

They pull up at the theater but Zen doesn’t get out, not even after Jumin utters a soft “we’re here.” Kyungju is probably already in there already waiting with her hands on her hips and her foot tapping restlessly against the old wooden floor. He needs at least something to look forward to.

“I get out at five,” he says as casually he can manage though his hand is on the door handle, ready to bolt at any minute. His other hand lands on Jumin’s thigh as he says “if you still want to… you know.” And he leaves it at that. He can feel Jumin’s eyes on him as he walks up the stone steps and through the big double doors.

He had been right about one thing; Kyungju was already waiting for him and she looked _pissed._

“Did you have fun?” She asks in a tone of voice that clearly indicates _I hope you had the worst time of your life._

Zen nods and smiles though because she’s so small and fragile looking it’s hard to be intimidated by her. “I did. Thank you. Are you ready to keep rehearsing?”

She huffs and he has to keep himself from laughing. He’s still buzzing from the rush of seeing Jumin again and his lips tingle in a pleasant kind of way. He smiles and brushes his fingertips across his bottom lip, remembering the taste and the feeling and the _need._

He grabs his script and straightens out his face as he steps on the stage next to Kyungju. The soft note of a piano rings out across the stage and Zen closes his eyes and sings.

-

He really hadn’t expected it. Of course he hadn’t. Once the words had left his mouth he’d practically set himself up for disappointment because as Jumin had said it was a _one-time thing, remember?_ That’s why as he leaves the theater he has to do a double take to make sure that’s actually Jumin leaning against his car that’s parked on the curb.

“Hi,” he breathes as he comes close. Jumin’s eyes are on him, dark and hooded, like he’s bored but the way he looks Zen up and down is anything but bored.

“You said five o’clock,” is Jumin’s way of greeting.

Zen tilts his head to the side and watches Jumin carefully. Was he trying to be funny? “I had to grab my jacket.” He holds up the offending item and Jumin looks at it as if it’s just ruined his whole evening. “What’s just five minutes, am I right?”

“No, you’re certainly not right. Are you coming or are you staying out here all night?”

Zen nods and gets into the car though all he’s thinking about is that _yes_ he will be coming if Jumin puts those hands of his to good use. He can already imagine what they’re gonna do, can practically feel the heat and there’s a warm fire igniting in the pit of his stomach. He places his hand on Jumin’s leg and strokes gently at his inner thigh. This is how it starts: slow. Soft.

Jumin looks infuriatingly composed as Zen’s hand moves higher except for the hard set of his jaw and the white-knuckle grip he has on the steering wheel. Zen smirks and leans in, placing a kiss on Jumin’s cheek, his temple and anywhere he can reach.

“Are you trying to make me crash?” Jumin asks, voice tight as Zen’s hand moves over his half-hard cock.

“No. I’m just trying to get a reaction.” When there’s no answer Zen moves back against his seat and taps his chin. “Can I blow you?”

Jumin chokes on his spit and the car swerves just the slightest bit. “God- yeah, when we get to my place.”

“No.” Zen leans forward, knees on the seat and ducks under Jumin’s arm and nuzzles against his thigh. “Now. I want to do it now.”

“Zen-“ He means to say it as a warning but Zen is already undoing his zipper. Jumin can’t lie- this is _hot._ Anyone could see them or they could get pulled over or they could _crash_ but when Zen takes his cock out of the confines of his pants and licks at the head he suddenly doesn’t care. He’d gladly let anyone see how good Zen is at this, how good he sucks cock. “ _God._ ”

Zen hums, the vibrations shooting straight up Jumin’s spine and it takes all of his willpower not to crash the car or just pull over and fuck into Zen’s hot, wet mouth. It’s amazing the way he works his tongue and pumps his hand at the same time. There’s not much room to do anything but when they stop at a red light Jumin takes the opportunity to grip Zen’s hair, _hard_ and fuck up a few times. Zen doesn’t complain, no he just moans, loud and filthy. There’s a million thoughts that run through Jumin’s head, a million things he could do but for now he should just focus on getting them to his place in one piece. He knows he’s probably broken a few speeding rules but that heat in his stomach is just coiling tighter and tighter and he’s on the verge of coming when he pulls the car into his reserved parking space and pulls Zen off of him. The other is wrecked already, hair a mess and lips swollen and slick with precome and spit. Jumin doesn’t hesitate to kiss him.

Zen pulls away with a low groan and takes a few seconds to just look at Jumin. Even after fucking a first time he still can’t get over how handsome and _good at this_ he is. It’s really not fair but then again maybe he’s just lucky to have stumbled upon someone like this.

They kiss again, this time slower and when they pull away Zen asks, “Did you agree to this because last time I said it was just _nice?_ ” Jumin doesn’t say anything and Zen’s smile widens. “What did you want me to say? That it was amazing? Mind-blowing?”

“Was it?”

“Doubting your abilities?” He kisses the corner of Jumin’s mouth. “Why don’t you tuck yourself back up so we can head up there and… measure your abilities? I may have forgotten a bit. It’s been a long time, after all.” He pouts and Jumin _hates it._

As he stumbles through the lobby of his apartment building with Zen practically hanging from his arm he’s never been quite as ashamed as he is in that moment. It’s like the doorman and all of the other tenants can’t stop staring and Jumin’s cheeks are uncharacteristically red. He’s not used to his, he _never_ brings people home but now it’s like everyone in the building has seen Zen hanging off of him and placing open-mouthed, filthy, wet kisses to his neck.

“Top floor, Mr. Han?” Zen asks, voice deep and husky. Jumin nods and watches as Zen hits the button. On the ride up they stand side to side, with Zen’s hands around Jumin’s hips. It’s quiet and Jumin is a little startle when they hear the _ping_ that indicates that they’ve gotten to their floor.

Zen is no stranger to luxury. He lives in it, _thrives_ on it but when Jumin unlocks the door of his penthouse and they step inside he can’t help the awe that takes over his face. The place is huge, practically taking up the entire top floor. It’s all open concept with large windows that allow for a lot of sunshine to filter in during the day time and an amazing view of the city during the night. There’s a large chandelier hanging from the ceiling and the couches are all a pristine, stark white color. What really completes the picture, though is the man standing right in the middle of the room, looking for all the world to see (or just Zen, at the moment) like the magnificent piece of art that he is.   

Zen moves forward, long legs carrying him to where Jumin is standing and in the moment their lips come crashing together. It’s amazing, mind-blowing because being with Jumin- it’s everything Zen could never really say out loud. They stumble and Jumin leads the way to his room. Zen doesn’t have a lot of time to look around because Jumin is pushing him back into the bed and working at his shirt until he’s got it over and off. Zen shivers when he feels the cool air against his skin but Jumin is so, so warm so it’s okay. _It’s okay._

Jumin kisses his neck and then moves down to leave marks over Zen’s previously unmarked chest. Excitement fills him as he imagines what the dark marks will look like the next morning, dark and bruised reminders of yet another great night.

Jumin moves lower and lower until he’s mouthing at that place where skin meets cloth and Zen whines, shifting around to try to get Jumin to go lower- _fuck-_ lower. Jumin grabs onto his hips and forces him to stay still.

“Just let me work. You’ll like it, I promise.”

Hesitantly, Zen nods and then Jumin is tugging down his jeans and boxers, all in one go. He should probably check to see where they landed so he can make a speedy exit after this but he finds that he doesn’t care, not when Jumin is kissing the insides of his thighs like that. He swears those lips could make him not care about anything. He threads his fingers through Jumin’s hair, at least that’s something he’s allowed to do and revels in the thought of mussing up those perfect dark strands.

Zen isn’t used to this. He’s not used to the gentle treatment, the soft kisses. He’s used to rough and quick, fast and intense. He’s used to one night stands but this… this isn’t a one night stand, at least not anymore. Zen knows that whatever they have now could end up becoming something dangerous later on but he can’t bring himself to mind when Jumin is licking down his cock and then taking one of his balls into his mouth. It's too much and Zen feels himself burning from the inside out. His mind is in a haze and all he can feel is the pleasure that Jumin is giving him.

“Tell me what you want,” Jumin asks eventually, pulling back. Zen whines at the loss of stimulation. “Tell me, baby.” Baby. _Baby._ The word resonates around in Zen’s head and makes his heart beat faster than it already is.

“Want you,” he says. “I want you.”

“Want me how?”

Zen can’t do it. He can’t say it. _He can’t._ Not with the way Jumin is looking at him, eyes so heated they burn right through him.

“Tell me, Zen.”

Silence.

The slap to the back of his thigh comes unexpectedly. Zen jerks, not sure if he wants to get away or lean in closer but the tingle of excitement that shoots up his spine seems to answer the question.

“I want… I want you to f-fuck me. Please. God, please.”

Jumin pulls away and for a second he thinks he’s done something wrong, that this isn’t what Jumin had expected of him but then he hears the _click_ of a bottle of lube opening and a slicked up finger at his hole, pressing but not entering. He doesn’t realize until that moment how much he’s needed Jumin, how much head yearned for this. All those nights spent with his hands between his thighs, trying to relieve one moment and now here he is in another.

And Jumin is a _mazing,_ maybe even amazing. It’s not fair how well he works his fingers inside of Zen, how easily he makes him crumple and become a weak, whining mess. He’s not usually like this, definitely not. He should probably try to tell Jumin this, try to salvage whatever is left of his image but when Jumin pulls his fingers out and a high pitched whine leaves Zen’s throat he realizes that there’s not saving this. He’s a mess and they both know it.

Jumin is quick to roll the condom on and even Zen, in his lust-filled haze, can tell how desperate he really is.

When Jumin slides his cock inside, slow and steady, Zen swears he sees stars. He claws at Jumin’s thighs, knowing he’s living stinging red marks but not bringing himself to care. He doesn’t care about anything except the slide of Jumin’s thick cock inside of his asshole and it’s too much and not enough at the same time. He wants and wants and wants and then when Jumin is finally inside of him as far as he can go they both let out breathy moans and then wait.

The waiting is the worst part because Zen just wants nothing more than to get fucked. He’s hot and panting and _full, so fucking full._

When Jumin finally moves he rocks forwards once and Zen swears he can see god. He cries out and is pretty sure he begs Jumin for more.

_Harder. Faster. Deeper. Yeah, Jumin just like that._

Jumin leans forward and lets Zen swallow his soft moans. He sets a pace for them; deep but slow and Zen can’t tell if he likes it or not, isn’t sure if it’s enough for him but he lets Jumin take control, knowing he’ll take care of him and leave him sated by the end of the night.

“Do you like that?” Jumin asks, trailing kisses across Zen’s jaw and they’re breathless, so fucking breathless. Zen runs his hands down Jumin’s back, too weak with pleasure to do anything else.

“I like it,” he whines. “Yeah, Jumin I like it a lot.”

Jumin pulls back then and stares right into Zen’s eyes as he quickens they pace. They both moan, loud and filthy and Zen wonders if Jumin’s neighbors can hear them. He can imagine their horrified faces but he doesn’t mind letting the world know that he’s well fucked.

Jumin pushes Zen’s hair back and away from his face and leans their foreheads together. He’s close, Zen can tell because his movements are becoming erratic. He realizes for the first time just how intimate this position is. They’re so close, breathing the same air, looking into each other’s eyes and at that very moment, as Jumin pounds into him hard before he comes with a loud groan, he knows he’s gone, lost in the cold steel of Jumin’s eyes.

It only takes a few strokes for Zen to come, too, all over his own chest. He cries out and his back arches. He’s never felt something so… intense. Jumin fucks him through it and then when he whines at the oversensitivity he pulls out and throws the condom in the small trashcan by the nightstand.

Jumin falls on the bed next to Zen, both of them panting hard. Zen tries to shake the sluggishness that is beginning to seep deep into his bones and when he turns he finds Jumin looking at him expectantly.

“Well?”

Zen grins and rolls over, straddling Jumin’s stomach. He’s so sweaty it should be gross but Zen finds that he doesn’t really mind.

“Better,” he whispers and kisses Jumin. The other doesn’t push away like Zen had expected him to. Instead he sinks down into the mattress and lets Zen lick into his mouth a couple of times before he’s pulling away. “I really have to go.”

“Without a shower?”

Zen is already across the room, pulling on his jeans. When he’s all zipped up he admires how disheveled and fucked out Jumin looks and imagines he must look the same way. “I’ll shower at home.”

He’s heading to the door but before he can make it Jumin is grabbing his wrist, causing him to stop mid-step.

“At least let me call you a driver.”

Zen looks at Jumin for a long while, searching his expression for anything that could give away his true intentions. In the past he’s had men give him things in exchange for sexual favors and only to get violent when he didn’t want to do as they wanted. He’s gotten pretty good at figuring the rich type out but Jumin’s expression is sincere and kind of worried, too.

Zen agrees and as he sits on the plush leather seats of the expensive car on his way home he wonders what the hell he’s gotten himself into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! comments are always greatly appreciated :~)  
> starboyjimin.tumblr.com


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if i accidentally wrote jimin instead of jumin, i am sorry.

Zen had been wrong. He’d been so, so wrong and stupid and just plain careless. He can’t seem to get Jumin out of his head, no matter how much they fucked. It was a dumb plan from the beginning anyway but now Zen was beginning to feel the consequences every time he spaced out at work because he couldn’t stop thinking about Jumin and his hands and his lips. It was awful, maybe the worst thing he could have done but he can’t help it when his heartbeat accelerates whenever he sees Jimin waiting for him outside after rehearsals.

It was all so amazing, fantastic. The way Jumin held him down and fucked into him, the way he whispered all of those dirty words into his skin, the way he kissed him, even but Zen knew that it was just sex and that was all it was. No matter how tender Jumin was, how soft his kisses, how warm his eyes. All of it was just sex and nothing more. It could never be anything more and Zen comes to this sad realization as he lays alone late into the night, tracing his fingers over the fresh bruises while still imagining Jumin’s hands on him.

It’s a month before the play is set to be performed and Zen can’t stand it anymore; can’t stand the ache in his chest or the way his heart jumpstarts at just the thought of Jumin. He has to end this, has to put a stop to all of it before it gets worse. He’s already attached, considering how easy it was for him to do but Jumin considered him nothing more than a fuck toy, something to pass the time after business hours. It made his heart quiver and squeeze tight right there in his chest.

So he decided one day after rehearsals that he's going to tell Jumin, quite firmly, _sorry, but I can’t do this anymore. It was fun while it lasted_ and maybe he’d add in an _it’s not you, it’s me_ for good measure _._ It’ll be easy, except that when he walks outside, Kyungju at his side, practically clinging to him, Jumin isn’t there and neither is his slick black car.

“Oh, he’s not here today?” Even Kyungju seems to notice except her tone of voice is happy, elated even. “Shame.”

“It’s alright,” Zen says, disappointment sinking in his stomach. He hates how much he’d actually been looking forward to seeing Jumin. “He’s just late. I’ll wait around.” He’s not going to, but he just doesn’t want her to see him walk away with his head hanging between his shoulders.

Kyungju frowns, her pretty face turning ugly with the gesture. “You should come with me, Zenny. I was going to cook and then we could watch a movie and-“

“No thanks, really. I’ll just wait for him.”

Her frown turns into a full out scowl and she huffs, stomping away while muttering something about s _uit yourself_ but it could have also been _go fuck yourself_ which is probably what he was going to spend the night doing anyway. Still he doesn’t care too much about her, just the fact that Jumin didn’t show up and that it feels so weird driving home without someone’s hand on his thigh.

He hasn’t gone straight home after rehearsals for so long, usually stopping by Jumin’s place first and then heading back there and now he has no idea what to do because he’s not _tired,_ like he usually is when he gets there. He’s wide awake, actually, so he changes into a big t-shirt and shorts, turns on the T.V. and orders food from his favorite restaurant across town. He sinks back into the couch and waits for the food to get there, trying to relax and not check his phone every five minutes.

The doorbell rings just thirty minutes later and Zen jumps up as soon as he hears the sound because really, this is probably the most exciting part of his day so far. He opens the door and is too busy digging his wallet out of his pocket to notice a very uncomfortable Jumin standing right next to the deliveryman.

“Hey. Just 20,000 won, right?” he’s about to hand over the money when he stops, locks over and notices just who is standing there. “Holy shit, Jumin?!”

“Hey-“ he clears his throat, his cheeks heating up and turning red. “Hi. Is now a bad time?”

“Uhm.” He doesn’t know what to say. The deliveryman is looking between the two of them, his hand still outstretched and waiting for his money. It’s awkward, and so Zen struggles to get the money out of his wallet because he’s never been very good in awkward situations anyway until he sees Jumin place a shiny 50,000-won bill into the delivery man’s hands.

“Do you want the change?” the man asks, a little wide eyed at the big payment, at the same time that Zen blurts out “I was going to pay for that.”

“It’s fine,” Jumin answers, waving his hand dismissively and Zen doesn’t know who he’s talking to but the delivery man takes it as it comes and just shrugs before pocketing the money, smug grin on his face as he hands over the food and then he’s prancing down the hallway like this is the best day of his life.

“He didn’t even say thank you,” Zen mutters, trying to ignore the sudden tense atmosphere. “Jerk.” Jumin laughs and for the first time Zen notices that he’s still out in the hallway, hands in the pockets of his suit jacket. “Did- did you want to come in?”

“Oh, I-“

But Zen is already opening the door wider, making enough room for Jumin to slip through. “I think I ordered enough for two.” He smiles and Jumin’s shoulders seem to relax and he actually smiles back as he steps inside.

Zen can’t even find anything wrong with the picture presented before him, not this one because even despite his resolve from earlier, having Jumin in his apartment, hovering just at the edges, watching him carefully as he serves the food because he’s too -what? Shy? Scared?- to go wait in the living room just feels so right and Zen is damned if he’s just going to let this go because he can’t deal with his goddamn feelings for ten minutes.

So instead of focusing on Jumin, he focuses on the food, still hot and steaming and probably fresh off the stove. Zen’s mouth waters and he remembers that he really hasn’t eaten anything all day.

“I hope you like jajangmyeon,” Zen says, turning to Jumin with two plates and forks. “I… wasn’t really expecting any company.”

They sit on the couch, plates balanced on their laps as they watch the shitty game shows that Zen likes. He watches Jumin out of the corner of his eyes, though, watches him pick at his food before he takes a small bite.  

“I actually came to apologize,” Jumin says after swallowing his first mouthful of food. He groans in appreciation and Zen is glad that he enjoys it.

“For what?” He bumps his knee against Jumin’s.

“For not showing up.” He takes another bite. Then another and another. “Uhm- I’m sorry. I should have called first.”

Zen reaches over and places his hand over Jumin’s. Jumin doesn’t pull away like Zen had expected him to. Instead he turns to him, eyes wide and cheeks still that cute shade of pink. “It’s fine. It’s not like you were my ride or anything. I lived.” Zen would never admit to the disappointment that had settled deep in his gut or the fact that he had wanted to end this arrangement that had just sprung up out of nowhere. He’d never admit that because he’s weak but more specifically he’s weak for Jumin.

“Still, I didn’t mean to. My assistant kept me back and I-“

Zen places a finger over Jumin’s lips. “Hush. It’s fine.” And if his voice gets deeper and kind of gruff, neither of them say anything about it.

They settle back into a comfortable silence, the only sounds coming from the T.V in front of them. The entire thing is a little domestic, really but it’s also a little awkward because this is the closest they’ve been without having sex and they don’t know how to move about each other, what to say or do. Still, it’s _nice_ and Zen likes _nice_ but more than that he likes Jumin. Before he can do anything stupid, however, he stands and grabs their empty plates and heads into the kitchen. He hears footsteps behind him and knows that Jumin has followed him.

“Let me help,” Jumin says, reaching for the sponge. Zen goes to protest but Jumin has already turned the tap on and who is he to complain when he has someone so willing to clean up for him? “That show you were watching-“ Jumin’s voice comes soft, reluctant, as if making small talk isn’t his strongest point. “It’s very… interesting.”

“I know right?” Zen leans his hip against the counter, traces a line with his eyes over Jumin’s hands and up his arms until he reaches his face. “It’s some weird Japanese show. There’s a new episode at ten, if you want to watch it with me.” He’d never meant for it to sound like an invitation and _god,_ he sounds so desperate but it’s too late to take it back so he keeps his face stoic and pretends that that’s what he wanted to say all along.

Jumin’s movements pause for a moment (just a moment, really. The smallest of fractions of a moment and anyone else would have missed it but Zen is always so hyperaware of Jumin these days) but then he’s nodding, actually _nodding_ and it’s like someone has set fireworks off behind Zen’s ribs. “Sounds like a plan.”

There’s a lot of maybes here, a lot of what ifs. Zen runs over all of the possibilities in his head, thinks about every little thing that could go wrong at this very moment, sitting on that couch and watching shitty Japanese T.V shows. In the end he comes to a single conclusion: he doesn’t care and so he moves closer in the least subtle way possible until he’s pressed up against Jumin’s side, his legs curled up under him. The other doesn’t complain, just lets his arm fall lazily around Zen’s shoulders.

Zen has never believed in soulmates, always thought that little red string of fate was just bullshit made up by lonely people that could never get anyone to stay but the way he fits so nicely against Jumin just might be proof enough to convince him otherwise.

“Wait, I don’t get it,” Jumin says about five minutes in.

“What don’t you understand?” Zen asks, his hand landing on Jumin’s thigh. It’s an innocent enough gesture except for the fact that Jumin’s legs spread apart just slightly.

“Why are they just… biting stuff?” He looks genuinely confused and it’s actually kind of cute.

Zen moves his hand, fingers brushing Jumin’s inner thigh and the other shifts. Under the glow of the TV screen Zen can see the way his face is burning up. “It’s part of the game. There’s things made out of chocolate and-“

“What?”

“Like, there’s different items made out of chocolate in the room, right? and-“ he moves his hand higher and higher until he’s finally brushing against the other’s cock and god- _god,_ he’s really half-hard and this is the first time Zen has even touched him like this. “They have to try and find that item but they can only like… bite the stuff?” he starts moving his hand, as subtly as he can but-

“Zen.”

Zen stops, fingers just brushing at that soft dusting of hair that leads down to something that has his mouth watering at just the thought of it. The look in Jumin’s eyes is serious but the way he spreads his legs further says something like _please don’t stop._

“Yeah?” He’s not going to deny that he sounds a little bit rough around the edges, a little bit _needy_ but it’s okay. It’s _okay,_ because if he can’t have Jumin any other way at least he can have him like this.

And it’s okay.

“Did you plan to seduce me with food and shitty T.V shows today?”

There’s a pause because that’s so unlike Jumin, the words laced with the tiniest hint of laughter. It’s too much and then there’s something building up in Zen’s chest, building and building until he can’t hold it in anymore and he’s bursting out laughing, falling forward and trying to muffle the sound into the crook of Jumin’s neck. Jumin is laughing, too, his hands coming to wrap around Zen’s middle as he shakes.

“Holy shit- yeah. Yeah, that was my plan all along.”

Jumin pulls him closer, his grip around Zen growing tighter.

“Is it working?”

Zen could swear he feels a pair of lips brushing against the top of his head but he could also be making it up in the semi-delirious state he’s in.

“Maybe,” is Jumin’s answer. Zen is scared to look up at his face, scared to know what he’ll find there because Jumin’s voice is so, so soft and full of something Zen has never been able to recognize. Instead, he moves to straddle Jumin’s lap, kisses his jaw and down his neck in the process gets an appreciative sigh and a pair of hands at his hips. It’s like nothing they’ve ever done before but then again Jumin has never shown up to his apartment uninvited before and maybe that day was meant for toeing at the lines they’d silently set up the first time around.

“Jumin,” _I can’t do this anymore._ “I want you.” He can’t lie, not now, not when Jumin is right there in his hands. And when Zen looks up at his face there’s that look in his eyes, the very same one that he was scared to find there. He doesn’t know what to make of it because no one has ever looked at him like _that_ and no one has ever touched him like _this_ and he doesn’t think there was ever even anyone before Jumin.

“I’m right here,” Jumin says, his hands slipping higher up under Zen’s shirt.

But before Zen can say _no, I want you in more ways than just this_ Jumin is leaning forward and kissing him, soft and slow and oh- _oh,_ this is so different and nice and Zen feels like he’s melting into a puddle, right there on Jumin’s lap but it’s okay, because those hands on him keep him whole and steady. Zen cups Jumin’s face, strokes his cheeks with his thumb and kisses him back.

“It’s not fair,” Jumin whispers once they pull away, breathing hard. “It’s not fair that you’re so goddamn beautiful.”

Zen swears his heart stops in his tracks, feels it come to a stop right there in his chest and this is _too much._

Jumin laughs breathily, tracing a finger over Zen’s bottom lip. “And it’s kind of funny, right? How I said it was just a one-time thing but- but here we are.”

Zen nods. “Here we are.”

“Baby,” Jumin breathes, leaning closer. “I want you, too.”

And then the world explodes.

Or so Zen thinks, because color bursts behind his eyelids whenever he blinks and warmth blooms in his chest like spring flowers and he’s falling, not even sure if there’s someone at the bottom to catch him but dammit, he’s _falling._

Everything moves in slow motion but too quickly at the same time after that. It’s like they can’t get enough of each other at that moment, can’t get their clothes off fast enough, can’t share enough kisses. It’s not sex this time, it’s too different. This is making love, Zen realizes vaguely, marveling at how marvelously good and slow and gentle Jumin stretches him open, peppers his shoulders and chest with kisses, leaves his mark across that smooth expanse of skin. And all the while Zen can’t stop chanting those words;

_I want you._

_I want you._

_I want you._

They fuck right there on the sofa with the flickering light of the T.V illuminating their faces. They’re pressed chest to chest, moaning into each other’s mouths as Zen rides Jumin’s cock, torturously slow because he doesn’t ever want this to end. Zen likes it like this, likes it when Jumin’s composure breaks, likes it when he can watch him fall apart piece by piece. He wants this, every single day, wants Jumin to hold him tight, wants him to fuck him slow but he also wants the impossible.

He wants Jumin to stay, tonight and every night. He wants to wake up to blueberry or chocolate pancakes or whatever kind Jumin would make in the mornings. He wants dates, actual dates, not just meetups for a quick fuck here and there. He wants to go out for coffee and to the movies, he wants to laugh with Jumin, wants to hold his hand, wants to stop by his office and drop off his lunch because he forgot it at home – _their_ home and it’d all be so wonderful and amazing.

Jumin’s hands trail down Zen’s back and to his ass where he squeezes once. “You feel so good.” And then there’s a slight smack against his ass. Zen yelps and quickens his pace because that’s probably what Jumin wanted in the first place. “You’re so good. So beautiful.”

Zen cries out, his pace stuttering as he comes all over himself and Jumin.

Jumin looks at him for a long moment, looking like he’s contemplating something. “Did you like that?” He grips Zen’s jaw gently and makes him look at him. They’re so close their lips brush when he speaks. “Did you like it when I called you beautiful?” He snaps his hips up and Zen cries out, oversensitive. “Do you like it when I praise you?” Zen grips Jumin’s shoulders tight as the other fucks into him. He wants to say _yes,_ maybe ask Jumin to do it again because with the heat comes but the words are lost, replaced by soft whimpers and pleas for more. It only takes a few more thrusts for Jumin to come, _baby_ spilling from his lips as he does.

They stay like that for a few moments, pressed together despite the heat, and the sweat and the stench of sex.

“You’ve gotten better since last time,” Zen comments, grinning from ear to ear. It’s a running joke between them, ever since those first few times and now Jumin just laughs, maybe he’d ruffles Zen’s hair a little.

“Practice makes perfect.”

And though Zen doesn’t want this to end he knows all things eventually have to. The moment that had transpired between breaks, shatters at his feet when Jumin moves Zen gently off his lap and onto the couch, places a kiss on his forehead, and stands. He doesn’t bother wiping the come off, not when he’s going home anyway, not when he has a million other suits that could easily replace the soiled ones. Zen has always gotten the feeling that Jumin isn’y the type of person that does laundry, just replaces whatever was soiled.

He’s dressed in a flash, clothes falling wrinkled and askew over his body. He doesn’t care, of course not and it’s not fair that he looks good even then, even when the buttons of his shirt are all uneven and his jacket is thrown over his shoulder and his hair is up at odd angles.

Before Jumin leaves, however, he bends down and places a peck on Zen’s lips.

_I want you, too._

Of course, Zen should have known Jumin didn’t mean it in the I-want-you-to-wake-me-up-with-breakfast-in-bed-and-take-me-on-dates kind way that he did. He should have known that someone like that could never want someone like Zen but he’d still dared to hope and this was the outcome.

“You should spend the night.”

He doesn’t mean to. It’s just a thought that crosses his head but he’s still in that post-orgasmic bliss and all he wants is a pair of arms wrapped around him at that moment so of course he blurts it out.

Jumin hesitates, his eyebrows drawing together. Was it really that bad?

“Maybe another time,” he answers and Zen lets him see just how much those words hurt, lets him see the way the corners of his mouth curl down and the way his eyes grow a little sad with disappointment. “I’m sorry, I-“

“It’s fine,” Zen says, brushing it off as best as he can. He’ll have time to wallow in it later when he’s alone in that big bed of his. “I get it. Just go.”

And this time Jumin is the one that looks hurt but Zen can’t find it in himself to care, not when the rejection stings so bad. He waits for the door to click shut, for Jumin to disappear but his scent and the memory of his touches remain.

Zen crosses his arms over his chest and pouts, wondering where everything went so wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyway, since i finally finished the other fic i was working on i can now dedicate my time to this one.   
> peeachys.tumblr.com


	4. Chapter 4

 

Maybe the roses are meant as an apology.

Zen isn’t too sure, seeing as the only thing that’s written on the note accompanying the roses is a small heart followed by a neatly scrawled out J. Several bouquets of the flowers are laid out in Zen’s dressing room, arranged on every available flat surface. They’re beautiful; a deep red with stunning emerald green leaves.

“So you’re telling me he rejected you last night and then just bought you roses?” Yoosung asks when Zen calls him. His voice comes with a little bit of static and there’s noises in the background that Zen can only assume are coming from the T.V.

“Kind of.” He picks at one of the petals and it comes off easily, sitting like blood in the palm of his hand. There’s people gathering around the open door of his dressing room, talking quietly among themselves and wondering who his secret admirer is. “Yoosung, did you skip school today to play video games again?”

“That’s beside the point.” Yoosung answers and Zen can just imagine him sitting in the dark, the tip of his tongue peeking out from between his teeth like it does when he’s trying to concentrate. “This Jumin guy… he’s a dick.”

“I know,” Zen sighs, picking another petal. This one he lets fall to the ground. “I know, god, _I know_ but-“

“You _were_ always weak for a pretty face,” Yoosung comments, voice light. Zen thinks he’s not wrong.

He doesn’t know what to make of this. Maybe the roses _are_ an apology, but not exactly one he’s willing to easily accept.

“It’s not his fault, anyway.” Zen can see Kyungju out of corner of his eye, makeup and hair done up perfectly. “I mean, we _did_ agree-“

“Yeah, yeah.” There’s someone shouting in the background and Zen has to pull the phone away from his ear because it’s so loud. “Hey. Hey I have to go, yeah? Good luck with Mr. Businessman. Bye!”

And then the line goes dead.

Zen looks at the black screen of his phone and sighs. Well that call went nowhere.

“These are nice.”

Zen turns to find Kyungju there, followed by a team of stylists. She picks at one of the roses and all of the petals come off. She lets them fall to the floor with a frown on her face.

“They are,” Zen answers as he sits on that little spinny chair in front of the dresser. They start with his hair and then move on to the makeup, trying their best to cover up the barely noticeable purple bags under his eyes.

“You know he’s just using you right?” Her voice is soft and Zen thinks _oh, here we go again_ but then, “he did that to me, too.”

“What?” The stylists are all still there and though Zen knows that they’re concentrating at the task at hand he also knows that they like to listen to everything so they can gossip about it later. They shouldn’t talk about it there but now that his interest has been piqued he can’t help but ask: “What do you mean?”

At the same time, his phone chirps, indicating that he’s gotten a text:

 

**_ From: Jumin [10:54 am] _ **

_I hope you got the flowers._

 

“He used me. A few years ago when I was still struggling I met him after an event and I-“ she hesitates, as if dreading saying what comes next. “I fell in love with him.”

Zen’s stomach sinks.

 

**_ To: Jumin [10:55 am] _ **

_I did. Theyre v beautiful. Any reason why?_

 

“And I thought he loved be back but-“ and then she laughs kind of bitterly. Zen can see in her eyes that she’s not lying. “But he just wanted to use me for a commercial or something. As soon as we were done filming he completely ignored me. It was like he didn’t even know who I was after that. Like I hadn’t dedicated my entire world to him.

 

**_ From: Jumin [10:58 am] _ **

_They reminded me of you._

**_ To: Jumin [10:58 am] _ **

_Oh._

“I’m sorry,” Zen says and it has to be the most genuine thing he’s ever said to her.

“I don’t want that to happen to you.”

 

**_ From: Jumin [11:00 am] _ **

_Actually I wanted to apologize._

_For last night._

“It won’t,” Zen smiles in the most reassuring way he can. “We’re just friends.”

 

**_ To: Jumin [11:03 am] _ **

_It’s alright. I get it lol_

“Right.” Kyungju sighs, defeated and leaves his dressing room. “Just friends.”

It’s makes Zen feel a little sick, hearing about how Jumin treated her and yeah, he definitely doesn’t want that to happen to him though Jumin was already using him, wasn’t he?

 

**_ From: Jumin [11:10 am] _ **

_You don’t, because I haven’t explained. Let me take you out tonight._

They call for Zen, then, the director ordering him to get his ass on stage or get it kicked and he doesn’t have time to ask where Jumin wants to take him so instead he just sends a quick _alright, see you @ 5._  

-

Jumin is driving a different car. It’s a solid white BMW convertible, probably still as expensive as the last one, complete with cream leather seats and its own navigation system.

And Jumin… Jumin isn’t wearing his usual suit and tie today. No, he’s actually wearing jeans and a simple white button down shirt and his hair is slicked back and it’s actually embarrassing how fast Zen’s heart is beating at just the sight of him.

“Fancy,” Zen hums, throwing his jacket over his shoulder. He wants to lean in and kiss him but the closer the play gets to its premiere, the more reporters and paparazzi that have started hanging around the place and he’s sure they both have a reputation to keep. “Ready to go, Mr. Han?”

Jumin smiles, just the smallest, tiniest bit but it’s there, hidden from everyone else and meant just for Zen. “I was waiting for you, actually. You always say five but come out ten minutes after.”

Zen shrugs as he slips into the front seat. “I’m not a very punctual man.”

“I can see that.”

Jumin starts the car, the soft hum of the engine lulling Zen into a sense of ease. He can forget Kyungju’s words and everything that happened the previous night if he can just stare at Jumin like this, so relaxed and dressed so casually.

It’s ten minutes into their ride when Zen finally asks “So, where are we going, exactly?”

“Art gallery,” Jumin replies almost instantly.

“You like art?”

“I like you, don’t I?” Jumin answers and his cheeks go red immediately. He clears his throat, trying to diffuse the sudden tension and keeps his eyes firmly ahead even though they’re stuck at a red light.

“Oh.”

The light turns green and then they’re speeding down the highway, Jumin bypassing all the other cars that are going too slow.

Zen’s hand lands on Jumin’s thigh and he says, “Thank you.”

Jumin spares him a single look. “For what?”

“For… for always telling me I’m beautiful.” And this time it’s him that turns red.

“It’s… you don’t need to thank me for that. You’re beautiful and that’s all there is to it.”

Zen leans over, places a kiss on Jumin’s shoulder and let’s himself relax into the seat until they reach their destination.

The art gallery is in downtown Seoul, among all of the tall buildings and expensive restaurants that Zen has never really bothered to go to. It’s also a place he knows well.

“You’ve been here before?” Jumin asks, grabbing on to Zen’s arm as they head up the steps that lead to the gallery. He doesn’t look too worried about the fact.

“I know the owners.”

“You know Rika and V?” 

Jumin opens the door for them, ushering Zen inside with a hand on the small of his back. Inside it’s brightly lit, so much so that Zen has to blink a few times and wait to let his eyes adjust but… it’s still as beautiful as he remembered with all the paintings and photographs lining the walls, beautiful as always but not like he could ever expect anything else from the artists.

“Who knew we had mutual friends.”

“Yeah.” Jumin looks at him and smiles, runs a soft hand through his hair. “They should have introduced us sooner.”

It’s a little weird, thinking that Jumin has friends, much less the same friends as Zen. Every time Zen had imagined him outside of their time together he’d always imagined him cooped up in an office, pouring over paper work and only talking to his assistant so she could get him another cup of coffee or set up appointments for him. He could have never imagined Jumin like _this;_ leading Zen from piece to piece with a hand on the small of his back, talking animatedly about his favorite pieces and what they meant to him. Zen watches Jumin more than he watches the art but it might as well be the same thing because Jumin is equally as beautiful and mesmerizing.

And Zen thinks about Jumin’s words, too, what they could mean in a situation like theirs.

_I like you, don’t I?_

“I feel like you haven’t been paying attention all night,” Jumin comments, leading Zen into another, smaller gallery, darker and more intimate than the main one. These are all photographs, hung up on simple dark frames so as not to draw away from the beauty of the pictures.

“I have. You liked the painting with the mother and child because- because it reminded you of family and you liked the one of the dog because of its simplicity and detail and the one of the ocean-“ Zen takes a deep breath. “You liked that one because it made you feel calm.”

Jumin laughs softly, so close to Zen’s ear that his breath tickles his neck. “So you were paying attention,” he says, wrapping his arm around Zen’s waist and pulling him closer. It’s so intimate, right there with the lights dim, surrounded by all those photographs with no one else in sight.

“Yeah, is that surprising?”

“No. You just had this dreamy look in your eyes, is all.”

“Sorry,” Zen whispers and holds his breath as Jumin’s thumb reaches up to swipe across his bottom lip. “You know… this is all a little weird.”

“Really? You don’t like it?” Jumin pulls back a little, moves his thumb up to stroke Zen’s cheek. “Sorry, I-“

“No. No, no I love this. I haven’t been here in so long and it’s so nice to see all of the new artwork and I- I like being here with you but-“ he bites his lip, watching as Jumin’s tongue peeks out and swipes across his own. “Fuck buddies don’t usually take each other to art galleries.”

Jumin smiles softly, just the smallest upturn of his lips. “We’re friends too, though, right?”

“Yeah,” Zen breathes. “Yeah, we’re friends.”

But the way Jumin kisses him later isn’t the way friends kiss each other. It’s soft, gentle, full of all the things they’re not willing to say, not yet, anyway, maybe not ever. The way Jumin grips onto Zen’s hips as if he never wants to let go but then does anyway just so he can run his hands up and down his sides; the way Zen wraps his arms around Jumin’s neck and tangles his fingers in his hair, mussing up the strands.

And then someone is clearing their throat somewhere behind them, breaking the moment but they just laugh, bumping their foreheads together.

It’s nothing like friends do, s _hould_ do but Zen is grateful to just be able to feel Jumin’s lips on his anyway.

They leave after what feels like hours and hours later, all spent talking about the artwork and holding hands (actually holding hands, intertwined fingers and all). They get into Jumin’s car and Zen thinks he’s going to drop him off at home but instead they head in the opposite direction, cutting through all of downtown and this part at night is so bright and amazing, full of throngs of people from all walks of life.

“Where are we going?” he asks for the second time that night.

“My office,” Jumin says and Zen laughs.

“I didn’t think you’d be into kinky office sex, Mr. Han.”

“I’m into a lot of things-“ They turn at the end of the street and pull up into the parking space in front of a tall building. “But if I were to fuck you in my office, it’d be during the day so everyone can hear how good I am to you.”

Zen swallows, hard and tries not to think about Jumin bending him over his desk and fucking him, hard and fast just like he always does, right there in his office where anyone could walk in. He really, really tries but it’s hard, as hard as he’s about to be any minute.

“So then what are we doing here?” Zen asks, following after Jumin. The street the building is on is quiet, barely anyone venturing by. Inside it’s equally as quiet, the lights dim.

“I wanted to show you something,” Jumin says, pushing the up button on the elevator.

“What, your paper work?”

Jumin rolls his eyes and stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he leans against the wall of the elevator. He hits the top floor button and then they wait.

“No. Just wait, yeah? I think you’ll really like it.”

The building is so big that it takes them a good five minutes to get to the top floor. Zen spends the entire time biting at his lip and stealing glances at Jumin. When the doors come open with a _ding_ Jumin grabs onto Zen’s wrist and drags him outside down a short hallway, past a reception desk and through a door and into the most impressive office he has ever seen. It’s big, taking up most of the top floor with big windows that take up two of the four walls and the view- the view is amazing and Zen can’t help the gasp that leaves his lips. He walks forward, presses himself against the glass and his stomach dips, scared that he’ll fall but it’s worth it for the way the city lights greet him like they’re old friends.

“Is this… is this what you wanted me to see?” Zen asks, fingers smudging the pristine glass. He’s so close to the edge, so close to falling and just a thin sheet of glass is keeping him from plummeting down.

“Yeah. Do you like it?”

“I do. It’s beautiful. Jumin-“

There’s a pair of hands wrapping around his hips and a warm body pressing against his back. Jumin rests his chin on Zen’s shoulder, watching everything with him. Zen can barely see the people down below, they’re so far up.

“I’m glad.” And then Jumin’s lips are on Zen’s neck, kissing the skin there so tenderly. “I’m sorry about last night.”

Zen leans back, lets his head fall to the side to give Jumin more access. “Is this part of your apology?”

“It is.” Those hands on his hips tighten and then they’re turning him around and pressing his back against the glass. Jumin presses kisses to his forehead and then the apple of his cheek. “I’m sorry.” A kiss to his lips. “I’m sorry.” A kiss to his chin.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Zen whispers, his hands on Jumin’s shoulders to steady himself because the sudden assault with those lips has him feeling weak. “Like I said, I get it.”

“But you don’t.” Jumin sounds almost desperate as he says it, as if willing Zen to understand something he doesn’t. all those weeks of fucking and they know each other’s bodies inside and out but they can’t even have proper conversations with each other. “I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

“Of- of the way you make me feel.”

Zen frowns but his heart jumps and kicks into full speed.

_The way you make me feel._

“Why? Why are you so scared?”

Jumin leans his head against Zen’s shoulder, buries his face into the crook of his neck so he won’t see his face.

“Because no one has ever made me feel like this. I’ve had my fuck buddies, sure, but you- I always keep coming back to you even when I tell myself not to and I- I don’t know. I’m just scared.”

Zen runs his hands through Jumin’s hair and then down his back, as soothing as he can be. Jumin bites at the skin of his neck and then soothes it over with his tongue, leaving a temporary mark on Zen’s skin. This whole night is so overwhelming and Zen doesn’t know if he wants to fuck Jumin right then and there or if he wants to sit down and talk about their feelings. Maybe he can do both; they have all night, after all.

 “It’s okay,” Zen says, pulling the hair at the nape of Jumin’s neck lightly. “It’s okay but hey- hey, Jumin look at me, yeah?” Jumin does. It takes some gentle coaxing but he does, looks up and meets Zen’s eyes and it’s more than he can handle but Zen keeps his voice steady. “Do you know a Kyungju?” He asks because he has to know, before he hands over everything he has to Jumin, before he gets his heartbroken.

Jumin frowns. “Who?”

“Echo girl. Tell me, did you know her?”

“Oh. _Oh._ Yeah, I know here, why?”

Zen places his hands over Jumin’s chest, not to push him away but to feel his heart, beating steadily under his fingertips. “She said… she said you dated her once and then… just used her. Is that true? Because I’m scared you’re just doing that to me, too.”

Jumin is laughing before Zen even finishes his sentence, hard and loud, echoing around the large room. “God that- that bitch. Of course she would.” He pulls away from Zen and moves across the room to the mini-fridge by his desk. “Do you want a drink? This is gonna be a long one.”

Zen ends up sitting on Jumin’s desk, his legs dangling down and glass of bourbon in his hands while Jumin sits in his chair nursing a glass of whiskey.

“So what’s the story?”

“This happened like… years ago? Yeah, so fucking long ago.” He takes a swig of his whiskey and leans back. “Okay so, here’s the thing. Did she tell you that we were dating?” Zen nods. “We weren’t.”

“Never?”

Jumin shakes his head. “Never, ever. I hired her to do a commercial for me, that’s all but she just had this idea in her head that we were dating, you know? I don’t exactly want to say that she was obsessed with me but I did almost get a restraining order against her.” He throws back the last dregs of his drink and places the glass on the table next to Zen and then rests his head down on his thighs. Fireworks burst in Zen’s chest and then he reaches down to run his fingers through Jumin’s hair. “When the commercial was filmed and I let her go she wouldn’t stop blowing up my phone. It was the worst and I’m sorry she told you all of those things.”

“It’s fine. I’m sorry I even believed her in the first place.” Zen really shouldn’t have put it past her to make something like that up. He also can’t say that he’s surprised that it was all a lie. She seemed like the type.

Jumin rubs circles into Zen’s thighs and sighs. “This is nice.”

“Yeah. Thanks for taking me out. I really like it.”

The hand on his thigh squeezes down. “I’m glad. I’m really glad. Zen-“ Jumin sits up and suddenly their faces are close, so close. Zen closes his eyes and waits for what comes next, waits for whatever Jumin is going to give him and that, it turns out, is a kiss, a simple peck on the lips. “I meant it when I said I wanted you.”

Jumin is all tongue and teeth tonight but his movements are slow, deliberate. He takes his time undressing Zen right there in the middle of his office, overlooking that big, big city, all bright lights and loud people but in the office it’s quiet, the only sounds coming from the two men in there. Jumin whispers not obscenities but praise into Zen’s skin, tells him how good and beautiful he is, how well he does things. Zen lets Jumin take control and bend him over the desk, hissing as the cold, wooden surface presses against his skin but it’s okay because Jumin is there, trailing kisses down his spine until he reaches his ass and then he’s leaving stinging bites there, taking his time to leave his mark so Zen won’t forget, at least not for a few days but how could he ever forget this? Even if it goes nowhere how could he ever forget?

Jumin pauses and reaches over his desk, pulls open the first drawer and pulls out a packet of lube.

Despite the charged atmosphere around them Zen has to laugh and ask; “You keep lube in your office?”

“Yeah. You don’t?”

Zen watches Jumin coat his fingers with lube but feels it when he presses them against his rim.

“I don’t have an office.”

“Well-“ the first finger pushes in, too slow for Zen’s liking. “How about you just relax and let daddy work, then?”

Zen groans, rough and loud. If there were anyone in the building, well then they definitely heard him.

“Daddy?”

A second finger slips inside, and Jumin hits Zen’s prostate head on, leaves him breathless and panting, arching his back until he’s on his toes, silently asking for more.

“Yeah, baby boy?”

“I thought- _ah-_ I thought we weren’t gonna f-fuck in your office.” He can practically feel Jumin’s smile, pressed up between his shoulder blades.

“I know but-“ the third finger slides in easily, met with no resistance. “You just look so good, so beautiful. I couldn’t help myself.”

“Okay,” Zen groans, resting his head against the wood. “Okay, Jumin. _God_ -“

Jumin threads his fingers through Zen’s hair and pulls and pulls until Zen is standing on shaky legs and then Jumin pushing him until his chest is pressed against the glass, over-looking the city as Jumin slips his cock inside of him. Zen cries out, can feel the tears stinging his eyes and this time when his stomach dips down it’s not because of the height.

Zen feels so vulnerable, like everyone is watching them even though they’re so far up and he would probably cover himself if Jumin weren’t pinning his wrists high above his head and whispering, “I wish I had something to tie you up with.”

“Next time,” Zen pants, trying to meet Jumin in the middle thrust for thrust as best as he can. “Jumin- fuck- _daddy,_ you fuck me so good.”

Zen comes first because of course he does. With Jumin thrusting so rough and hard and fast into him, it’s hard not to come, almost impossible. He nearly collapses as his come spurts all over the glass and the only thing keeping him up is Jumin’s hands on him. Jumin is still thrusting into him, chasing his orgasm but stops when Zen places a hand on his hip and tells him to.

He takes a moment to catch his breath but then he’s sliding down on his knees, watching Jumin take his cock in his hands and stroke a few times.

“Want you to come on my face, daddy.”

Jumin groans, his face scrunching up in pleasure as he fastens his pumps, watching as Zen closes his eyes and sticks out his tongue, waiting.

“You’re so good,” he groans, unable to control his mouth as he gets closer and closer to coming. “So good, just for me, right? You’re just for me Zen, mine. all- oh, _fuck-“_

And then he’s shouting as he comes, his hips stuttering forward but even then he can’t keep his eyes off of Zen, his come painting his face in streaks. He strokes himself a few times, riding out his orgasm and then he wipes the tip of his cock against Zen’s bottom lip. And it’s _filthy_ it really is but then again this is the best Jumin has ever felt with someone.

He helps Zen up to his feet, holds him tight the whole time even as they stumble into the en suite bathroom and clean each other up. And then they’re falling onto the couch in the office, Zen on top of Jumin because there’s no space but it’s okay because this is perfect and Jumin is holding him so tight, their hearts beating erratically.

Zen falls asleep right there, his head resting on Jumin’s chest as the other hums gently under his breath. He doesn’t think about how this is the first night that they sleep together and he doesn’t think about Jumin’s words, not a single one, not until he can clear his mind, try and make some sense of it.

He doesn’t think about anything except about how right this whole thing feels and just how much will change in the morning.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> peeachys.tumblr.com


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i keep telling myself i'll write ONE chapter w/o smut but here we are kids :/  
> this one is nasty SO NASTY rip

Zen has to stop himself from texting Jumin something stupid like _so, what are we?_

It’s hard, because even despite all of the soft words they’d shared that night in Jumin’s office (and the morning after, when Zen had woken up on that couch, still on top of Jumin and they’d kissed so tenderly and then Jumin had walked Zen out of the building in what had to be the worst walk of shame in history) nothing had been cleared up and the only thing Zen knew for sure was that Jumin had feelings for him, too.

There’s a lot of uncertainty, a lot of _I don’t knows._ Zen does know, however, he _understands_ that there’s something there between them, something soft and sweet and grand. Something that makes him feel invincible and amazing, and the way Jumin looks at him… it’s like he’s the only person in the world, like- like he loves him.

Zen shakes his head, trying to clear it. He doesn’t need to think about this. Not now, not when Kyungju’s lips are on his, hard and bruising and her nails are digging into his skin, bordering on painful. He grunts and pulls away from her, grabs her hips and looks at her as softly as he can manage in that situation. He smiles and her small, red lips part, ready to say her next line but the director is telling them to stop.

“Just- just stop.” The man looks defeated, rubbing at the crease between his brows. Zen sighs in relief, instantly pushing Kyungju away and stepping as far from her as he could manage without looking rude. His lips taste like her lipstick and it’s disgusting. “You two have-“ he waves his hand around, trying to find the right words. “Absolutely _no_ chemistry. It’s like you hate each other or something.” Zen thinks he’s really not all that wrong. Not at all.

Kyungju huffs. “We have great chemistry,” she argues, pouting. “Right, Zenny?”

“Sure,” Zen answers, not even bothering to look at her. The director sighs loudly, mutters something under his breath about them being hopeless and dismisses them for the day.

It’s never been so hard before, Zen thinks, packing up his bags and heading out the door. Jumin isn’t there, of course, because it’s only three in the afternoon. He gets in his car and slams his head against the steering wheel, gripping it tight. He’s kissed countless amounts of women before, some worse than Kyungju but this is just… awful. He doesn’t want to do this, kind of wishes he would have just passed on the script and gone on that damn vacation he wanted but now he has to swallow down his disgust and follow through. With less than a month to go he had to do this.

He starts the car and sends a quick text to Jumin, simply stating _rehearsals finished early._

The reply is near instant: _come to my office._

Zen knows the way. He’s driven by the building tons of times but never imagined it could have belonged to Jumin. Just Jumin. The thought of that whole building being just for one man was… ridiculous, actually. It was so big. He parks the car at the front and checks himself in the rearview mirror before heading inside. There’s lipstick still on his lips, bright red, and he wipes it away quickly before getting out.  It’s busy in there, employees bustling around, only sparing him a glance before going about their business, far too busy to care about who he is or what he’s there for. He steps into the elevator and presses the button for the top floor. He leans back against the walls and makes a mental note to remind Jumin to get some kind of elevator music playing. It’s ridiculously quiet in there.

When the doors open, almost immediately there’s a gasp, and a small squeak. Zen looks up, startled and finds a mousy woman with short brown hair standing right in front of him, holding a clipboard and a steaming cup of coffee in her hands. Her eyes are wide, her lips parted in a gasp that won’t come and she’s just staring. At him.

“Hello,” he smiles sweetly and steps off of the elevator. The woman is still staring at him, as if she can’t quite believe her eyes. “Are you Mr. Han’s assistant?”

She blinks, once, twice and then nods slowly. Zen’s grin widens. “Is that drink for him?”

Again, she nods.

Slowly, Zen reaches out and takes it from her. Her arms remain in the air and her fingers stay frozen as if still wrapped around the cup. “I’ll take that to him, yeah?” She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t try to stop him. She just stares off after him, blinking.

Zen opens the office door, slowly. He doesn’t know what to expect but it’s just Jumin at his desk, bent over some paperwork and his hair falling over his face. He reads, signs, and then moves on to another paper. He’s very diligent with his work and doesn’t even look up when he says, “Miss Kang, took you long enough.” He signs another paper and moves it to the side. “Just place it on the desk and go. Also, I’m expecting someone, so when he arrives please just let him up.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Han,” Zen says sweetly, placing the coffee on the desk and smirking. Jumin’s head snaps up and his eyes grow wide, almost as wide as his assistant’s when she’d laid eyes on him. “Will that be all, sir?”

Jumin’s lips curl up in what can only be called an amused grin. His eyes wrinkle at the corners and his cheeks turn a cute shade of pink. Zen’s heart leaps out of his chest. “I didn’t know I hired a new assistant.”

Zen shrugs. “Guess the hire ups did it without notifying you.”

Jumin wraps a fistful of Zen’s shirt and pulls him closer, closer, until their foreheads touch. “I don’t know if anyone’s told you, but I _am_ the higher ups. There’s no one above me.”

Zen licks his lips, looks into Jumin’s steely grey eyes and swallows, his throat bobbing up and down in the process. There’s such an air of dominance around Jumin and it drives Zen crazy knowing just how much control he has over everything, even he himself. He allows a moment of quiet, waits for his nerves to settle, for Jumin to do something else but he just stays there and his hand is probably wrinkling the material of his shirt but Zen doesn’t care, not-

The door creaks open and Zen pushes away, snaps his head up to see the intruder but it’s just the assistant from earlier, her face incredibly red. In her shaking hands she’s holding a notebook and a pen.

“Miss Kang what is it?” Jumin asks, tapping his fingers impatiently against the desk. She only spares him a glance before she’s moving towards Zen, her eyes set on the floor.

“Hi,” she squeaks and Zen understands almost immediately. She holds out the notebook and pen and Zen takes it with a warm smile, his eyes lighting up. “Big fan- autograph, please? Uhm-“

“Sure,” Zen answers, sparing her the effort. She looks like she’s about to pass out, barely able to formulate a coherent sentence. “To who am I making this out to?”

“Jaehee,” she says. “Jaehee Kang?”

“Oh?” Zen signs his name under the small _to: Jaehee_ that he’d written along with a small heart. “Are you Jumin’s assistant?” She nods. “I bet you work hard, huh?”

“Well-“

“Miss Kang is there-“

“I’m a hard worker, yes.” Zen hands over the notebook and lets out a breathy sigh. Jaehee looks at his signature, her eyes shining with admiration and adoration all at once. Zen is used to meeting fans but each time it takes him completely aback just how much people actually like him. Even while being surrounded by legions of cameras and reporters and screaming fans. Even after completing yet another successful movie or play or musical or whatever. It was still so hard to believe. Jaehee opens her mouth to say something else but Jumin is standing suddenly, with so much intensity his chair almost tips back.

“Miss Kang,” he says and finally Jaehee’s eyes snap over to where he is. “You can go home. You’re done for the day.”

“Oh but-“

“I will see you tomorrow.” His tone is so hard and final that it leaves no room for argument. Jaehee huffs, tells Zen that she was really, _really_ glad to meet him and heads out of the office.

“What was that about?” Zen asks when the door closes with a click. He turns to Jumin and strides over to his desk, places his hands on the hard wood surface and leans close, waiting for an explanation.

“I didn’t like the way she was looking at you,” Jumin says easily and goes back to pouring over all of that stupid paperwork.

“Jealous?”

There’s a pause and Zen thinks he’s done something wrong but then Jumin whispers softly, “Maybe,” and signs another paper.

“She’s just a fan.”

“Yeah, and I didn’t like the way she was looking at you.”

Zen laughs softly and reaches over to tug at the ends of Jumin’s hair. “Cute,” he says and then, “all my fans are like that.”

Jumin glares up at him, his eyebrows drawn together in a frown. “Tell them to stop.”

This time, Zen’s laugh is louder, filling the entire office. “God. You know I can’t do that.”

“Okay then I will.”

Zen hums under his breath. “And how will you do that?”

Finally, Jumin puts the pen down. He leans back against his seat, putting more distance between himself and Zen. Zen wants nothing more than to kiss him, though. He always wants to kiss him- it’s like a curse put on him and it wasn’t fair. “I’ll just let them know that you’re mine.”

There’s a pause, a heavy, heavy pause. Zen can’t quite get around the words, can’t process them quite right. They hang between them, laid out across Jumin’s desk, waiting for Zen to either deny or confirm them. But Zen doesn’t know what to do, if he should or not because everything is suddenly rushing forward and he’s frozen in place and falling all at the same damn time, waiting for Jumin to make the choice for him. He wants this, wants and wants but suddenly it feels like none of this is real, too good to be true.

“Zen-“

“I- yeah. Yes?”

Jumin is staring at him- _god,_ he’s just staring, his eyes roaming all over his face and Zen just feels weak all over. He takes a step forward and then two steps back.

“Zen, come here.”

Zen, ever so obedient, moves around the desk until he’s standing right in front of Jumin, their knees brushing together. It’s weird and tense and he doesn’t like this one bit.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I didn’t even know if-“

Zen reaches out and threads his fingers through Jumin’s hair. “It’s okay.”

“And I’m sorry if I misjudged your feelings for me.”

No. no, no, _no._

“Jumin.”

“It’s okay, you can tell me.” There’s something in his eyes, written all over his face. The hesitance, the uncertainty. It was like he was mirroring Zen’s emotions perfectly.

Instead of answering, Zen reaches out and grabs Jumin’s face, cradles it gently in his hands. He smiles, so, so softly and Jumin just looks at him confused, waiting for whatever it is that he’s going to do.

Zen says, “You’re such a stupid, stupid man,” and then leans in to kiss him softly. It’s just a small peck that’s full of so much promise and longing and everything that’s never been said.

“Does that mean-“

“Yeah- yes.” Zen nods eagerly, not even letting Jumin finish his sentence because he knows- he knows and this is real and it’s actually happening and all those sweet words they’d shared so many times actually had meaning behind them and weren’t just empty. “I’m yours for as long as you want me.”

“That’s a long time then,” Jumin laughs breathily and wraps his fingers around Zen’s wrists. “I’m sorry, I- I’m sure this isn’t how you were expecting this to go but I-“

“You got jealous.”

“I was scared. Of someone else taking you from me. I was just thinking about it with Jaehee with you. She was looking at you the way I look at you sometimes and I- it was weird.”

“It’s been a long time coming, though, right?” Zen asks because he has to know.

“Yeah,” Jumin confirms. “Probably from the first moment I saw you, I- I was so weak for you. Always.”

“Jumin…”

“I should’ve gone with something more romantic, right?” Jumin laughs, his eyes lighting up and all the hesitance disappearing from his face. “But I just couldn’t help myself. I had to say it.”

“This is fine; this is more than okay.”

They kiss again, slow and steady. Jumin’s fingers move from Zen’s wrists to his hips and pulls him close, so close. Zen’s hands fall on Jumin’s shoulders, steadying himself so he doesn’t fall. Jumin bites at Zen’s lip and then trails lower, down his jaw to the sensitive skin of his neck.

“Are you sure?” Jumin breathes, nipping at the skin.

“Yeah,” Zen sighs. “I’m sure. _I’m sure.”_ He says it again and again, trying to make it as real as possible, trying to get Jumin to understand that _yes,_ he wants this, has wanted this for such a long time now.

“I’m difficult to deal with,” Jumin says, placing a kiss on Zen’s shoulder, across his collarbones. “Just ask Jaehee, just ask _anyone.”_

 _“_ I don’t need to ask,” Zen laughs, tugging at Jumin’s tie. “I already know.”

The door to the office swings open then. Not slowly in a I’m-sorry-to-interrupt way but quickly and hard in a hey-I’m-here-pay-attention-to-me way. Zen pushes away from Jumin quickly, his cheeks burning in shame at being caught in such a compromising position.

He hears a soft “Oh, my god,” and turns to find Jumin’s assistant standing there, her hand over her mouth.

“This can’t be real,” Jumin whispers, slamming his head down on the desk. All formality and softness is gone from his voice he asks, “What is it? Didn’t I tell you to go home?”

“I-“

“C’mon, spit it out.”

In her hands she’s holding what looks like a picture frame though Zen can’t quite see the picture that’s in it because of the angle that she’s holding it. Her cheeks are red and her short hair is kind of tussled like she’d been nervously running her hands through it. “I wanted to get this signed, too.”

“Is that for me?” Zen asks, pointing at the frame and stepping towards her. Jumin grabs on to his wrist, trying to stop him but Zen just shakes him off. “Just let me do this really quick, okay?” He says to Jumin.

“Yes,” She answers, her voice less shaky and squeaky than it was before. She hands over the frame and Zen sees that it’s a picture of him, taken during a musical he did a long, long time ago. He’s laid out on the floor of the stage, shirt ripped open and hair a total mess. “But I’m sorry if I interrupted anything. I-I can go.”

“Yes, please go,” Jumin says at the same time that Zen says, “No it’s fine. Do you have anything I can sign this with?”

He can feel Jumin’s glare on his back as he takes Jaehee’s offered marker. Very neatly he writes his name out on the glass, his hands shaking slightly from sudden nerves. “How long have you been a fan?” He smiles, handing the picture frame back. It seems like Jaehee is mesmerized, frozen in place and unable to look away from him.

It’s cute.

“Since your very first performance,” she gushes, her hands on her cheeks. “Ah, you’re so amazing on stage. Like, no one can really take their eyes off of you. You’re mesmerizing.”

Zen beams at her. “Thank you so much.”

She goes on for another few minutes like this and Zen listens intently, nodding and smiling at all the right parts. It goes like this until Jumin stands from his desk abruptly and practically drags her by the arm out of the office and shoves her out the door with a “I will see you tomorrow.”

“Do you have any patience?” Zen laughs once the door is closed and looked. Jumin has some sort of predatory look in his eyes and his face is so serious it’s scary. Zen’s smile falls and he takes a step back. “Jumin?”

“What was that about?”

“Jumin-“

“Go sit down.” Jumin points at the couch and Zen goes, sitting down almost stiffly, obediently. “Remind me who you belong to.”

Zen gets it now. He really does. This is a game, a game that Jumin is playing to win and Zen wasn’t going to stop him or go against him. Jumin takes a seat back at his desk, his legs spread wide and his hands resting on his thighs. He looks confident and… like he’s well above Zen, superior, better, more dominating. Zen feels his heart jump in his throat because he knows what this look means and what comes along with it.

“You but- but I told you she was just a fan.”

“And I told you, I hate the way she was looking at you.”

“Jumin-“

“Take your clothes off,” Jumin says, simply. It’s not a question, it’s a demand and Zen is quick to obey. It’s weird, standing right there in the middle of that office naked without Jumin’s hands all over him. For the first time in a long time he feels the need to cover himself. He doesn’t, of course not, but he does feel himself blush all over. Jumin is looking at him, eyes roaming his body with an appreciative glint. “Sit down and stay there until I’m done.”

The material of the couch feels weird against Zen’s skin and he lets out a small sigh as he settles back.

“You’re awful when you’re jealous, you know that?”

“Oh, baby,” Jumin breathes, returning to his paperwork and Zen doesn’t like that he’s being ignored. “You don’t want to see how awful I can get.”

The only sound in the office after that is the scratching of Jumin’s pen on the paper. It’s driving Zen crazy, an itch crawling under his skin and he can’t keep still, trying to find some way to make it stop. He feels full of energy, exposed and half hard already for no goddamn reason other than the fact that he’s naked right there in Jumin’s presence.

“Jumin,” Zen whines, stretching out his legs and scratching slightly at the material of the cushions under him. He pouts, but Jumin doesn’t even look up at him.

“What is it baby?”

“I’m-“ he doesn’t even know how to say it, doesn’t even know what words to pick out from the countless that have piled up to become a jumbled mess in his head. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“I don’t know,” he mumbles. He knows there’s nothing to be sorry about, and Jumin knows that, too. This isn’t an act of ugly, bitter jealousy, but of power, a display of dominance, something to make Jumin feel better and reassure him that Zen belongs to just him. “I- can I please put my clothes back on?”

Jumin looks at him out of the corner of his eye. He’s looking down, eyes heavy on Zen’s lap and Zen squirms. “Is that really what you want? You look so pretty like that, baby.” Zen whimpers again and he feels pathetic, all laid out on the couch like some sort of trophy, some _prize,_  writhing around for Jumin’s enjoyment. “Why don’t you touch yourself for daddy?”

Zen feels a shiver race through him, making even his bones ache. Jumin’s voice is deep, gravelly and he’s resting his head on one hand as if he’s bored but Zen can see the interest in his eyes. Slowly, he reaches down, runs his hands down his thighs until goosebumps erupt all along his skin. He wants Jumin to do this, wants Jumin to touch him but Jumin is all the way across the room, sitting at his desk and watching intently.

Zen lets his hand wrap around his cock, finally and he lets out a gasp as electricity shoots up and down his spine.  “Like this?” Zen asks, hating and at the same time loving how easily he gives into Jumin, how willing he is to please the man in front of him.

“Yeah, just like that.”

Zen tries to put on a show as best as he can. Maybe if he does good Jumin will get up and touch him, maybe he’ll get bent over the desk and fucked mercilessly. Maybe. He pumps his cock as he tilts his head back, trying to be quiet because there are still employees in the building though he won’t deny that the thought of someone walking in on them like this doesn’t make his hand speed up just a fraction.

“Jumin. Tell me-“ his words cut off in a moan.

“Tell you what baby?”

“Tell me about h-how beautiful I am.”

“You’re gorgeous,” Jumin says almost immediately, moving his hand to rub over the bulge in his pants. “You’re so pretty, so beautiful. Just for me, right?” Zen whimpers and draws his legs up on the couch, moves one of his hands down to play with his hole. It’s a light touch, just barely skimming over the sensitive rim but it’s enough to have him almost shouting out a _Please!_ There’s something about the way Jumin praises him, something about the way the words fall from his lips and sink right into Zen’s skin and make him feel so, so good and light and heavenly.

“Daddy, touch me.”

“No,” Jumin answers, voice a near growl. Zen watches as he undoes his button and pulls his zipper down. He’s practically drooling by the time Jumin pulls his cock out of the confines of his pants. “You’re going to come just like that.”

“Why?”

“Because I say so and you’re a good boy that’ll do whatever daddy says, right?”

 “No, please-“

Jumin raises his eyebrows in question. “No?” Zen watches a bead of precome drip down the head of Jumin’s cock. He fastens his pace, chasing that release that he knows will be coming any minute now. “Are you not my good boy, baby?”

“I just want you to fuck me.” Tears of frustration gather at his eyes and threaten to fall. “Please, daddy, please.”

“And I want to see you covered in your own come. It seems like only one of us is getting what they want, yeah?”

Zen lets his head fall back, defeated. He watches Jumin watch him, watches the way he pumps his cock, the way he bites his lip and his hips buck up. What he wouldn’t do to have those hands all over him, that mouth on him, that cock _in_ him, but now all he has are his own hands and a determination to please Jumin as best as he can.

“Daddy.”

“Yeah?” Jumin is breathless, his hand speeding up and that slick, lude sound fills the room. “You look so good, Zen. Fuck.”

Zen comes first. It’s like the tension snaps and suddenly he’s coming so hard he shakes all over. Most of it lands on his chest or stomach and a little bit on his hand. All it took was Jumin’s wrecked voice to have him falling apart so suddenly and completely. Jumin follows after soon enough, a low grunt passing through his lips as he does. He catches it all in his hand and then falls back against the chair, his body going completely lax. They take a moment to catch their breaths before Jumin is beckoning Zen forward with a soft, “C’mere, baby.”

Zen’s legs are shaking and so it takes him a few moments to be able to stand and walk properly. When he gets to where Jumin is the other grabs him by the hips and pulls him close, kisses a spot on his stomach that isn’t covered in come and tells him about how well he did. Zen preens under the attention, turns into putty under Jumin’s touch and threatens to melt into a puddle right there on the floor. Zen closes his eyes, leans against Jumin and only moments later does he feel fingers pressing against his bottom lip. He doesn’t even open his eyes, just lets his lips part slightly and feels Jumin’s come covered fingers press against his tongue.

“Lick it all up, kitten.”

Zen nods and wraps his fingers around Jumin’s wrist. The come tastes bitter but Zen swallows it all down with only soft hums here or there. He’s sucking at Jumin’s pinky when suddenly Jumin pulls away and grabs him by the hips tightly. He doesn’t really register what’s going on until Jumin slams him down atop his desk,  his legs flailing out and  mountains of paperwork toppling over onto the floor.

“What-“

Jumin bends down and licks up all of the come on Zen’s stomach slowly, tongue lapping up the mess. Zen doesn’t want to but he looks down anyway and the sight is something to admire, something that makes Zen feel like getting hard all over again. Jumin licks him clean and then stretches himself over Zen’s body. Their lips meet and oh- _oh,_ Jumin hadn’t swallowed so all of the come Jumin had just licked off of him comes spilling into his mouth. It should be disgusting but as Jumin rubs his tongue into the roof of Zen’s mouth Zen can’t help but groan and arch up, pressing himself closer to Jumin and diligently swallowing all of the come that’s spilling into his mouth.

When Jumin pulls away it’s to kiss Zen’s forehead, down the side of his face and along his jaw. It’s tender, soft, and Zen relishes in the attention.

“You did so well,” Jumin says, pressing another kiss against Zen’s shoulder. “Zen, baby-“ There are words hanging off the tip of Jumin’s tongue, words that don’t dare fall, not now, at least but Zen understands and that’s enough. “I’m so proud of you.”

Jumin leaves Zen perched up on his desk, atop all of the important paperwork that’s now getting dirty and wrinkled. He leaves Zen naked and this time the way he looks at him is different. It’s still admiring but it’s tender, too. Incredulous, like Jumin can’t believe what’s in front of him.

“Tell me again,” Jumin says, placing a kiss on top of Zen’s knee.

“I’m yours.” Zen cups Jumin’s face and smiles down at him. He’s sated and the post-orgasmic haze is still settled over him with no intent of leaving anytime soon. Zen’s stomach picks that moment to growl in protest of its emptiness, loudly, and Jumin laughs.

“You hungry? I can order Chinese if you want.”

“It’s fine,” Zen says. “I don’t want you to leave.”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll just get my IT guy to go pick it up and bring it up here.”

Zen frowns and then breaks out into soft giggles. “Your IT guy?”

“Well,” Jumin shrugs, already grabbing his phone. “I did send Jaehee home, didn’t I?”

The food arrives fairly quickly and when they hear a knock at the door Jumin rushes to get a shirt over Zen’s head. Thankfully, it’s long enough to cover his cock and anything else that this IT guy really shouldn’t see though Jumin reassures him that he’s not really going to be in the office.

“God, it smells like sex in here,” he hears a voice say once the door opens and turns to find a flop of red hair standing at the doorway, bags in hand. “What have you been up to?”

“Take a wild guess,” Jumin says, no hints of shame in his voice. Zen, however, feels like he’s dying inside and is silently begging the world to swallow him whole at that very moment.

“Must’ve been good, huh boss?”

“You have no idea.”

Zen hates Jumin, or at least he pretends that he does. He spends a good amount of time at the door chatting up the IT guy, the bags of food in his hand, while Zen sits on the desk, half naked and cold and sticky all over. He’s never been more thankful than when that door finally closes and Jumin returns to him.

“Took you long enough,” Zen answers, frowning.

“Sorry.” Jumin places the bags of food down on the desk right next to Zen and starts taking out the containers. It all smells so good and Zen’s stomach just growls louder. “I was asking him to save the camera footage.”

“What-“ Zen yelps, incredulous. He punches Jumin’s arm, hard. “What cameras?!”

Jumin just grins.

-

The ride back home is mostly silent except for the small hum of the radio. Zen has his finger’s intertwined with Jumin’s as they drive through the busy streets. It’s late at night now and Zen is ready to just get home and crash into his bed and not worry about anything. He’s sore all over, from his neck down to his ass and he really, really needs a hot bath.

“I’m really bad at this,” Jumin says suddenly.

“What, holding hands?”

“No, stupid. This-“ he takes his hand off of the steering wheel and motions between them before putting it back. “I’ve never done this before and I’m just-“

“You’re nervous.” Zen reaches out, smooths a hand down the little hairs on the nape of Jumin’s neck. “It’s okay, I am, too.”

“I-I want to know everything about you.”

Zen laughs softly. “Mom’s an asshole, dad’s probably in jail. Last time I called my brother he asked if I was looking for money and then hung up.”

“Fuck your family, then,” Jumin says, frowning a little. “They don’t deserve you anyway.”

“Yeah, I’m glad you’re here now, though.”

Jumin squeezes Zen’s hand. “I’m glad you’re here now.”

When they reach Zen’s apartment they both hesitate. It’s like nothing that they’ve done before. This time, as Zen reaches out he doesn’t know if he should be less or more scared than he was before.

“Stay tonight,” he whispers softly, looking down at his lap. It’s quiet for a long moment, a moment that Zen spends chewing at his lip nervously.

“Okay,” Jumin whispers just as softly. “I hope your bed is big enough.”

“You know it is,” Zen says, happiness filling his entire being suddenly.

They fall into bed together once they reach the apartment. This is different from when Zen had spent the night at Jumin’s office. This isn’t out of convenience but pure, unadulterated _want_. This is Jumin and Zen, finally, finally sharing a bed, together. It’s just them tangled up in the sheets, their limbs heavy with sleep and their words drowsy.

 Zen relishes in Jumin’s warmth, moves closer and closer to him until he feels so warm he’ll melt. He lets the beating of Jumin’s heart lull him into a state of semi-sleep. Maybe Jumin thinks he’s fallen asleep completely because he kisses the top of Zen’s head and whispers, “I hope we’ll be okay.”

Zen thinks _I hope so too_ before sinking into a deep, deep sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been feeling eh about this fic because it really was not supposed to be this popular it was just something i was writing for a friend?? but really thank you to everyone that's read and commented, i really appreciate it. also, remember to always use a condom pls.  
> @peeachys on tumblr
> 
> also, yes this is unfinished, no i will not finish it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading.  
> misoyoongi.tumblr.com
> 
> If you like this please consider [commissioning me!](https://misoyoongi.tumblr.com/post/166154977751/writing-commissions)


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